


Sweetest Downfall

by thegreatandpowerfultoaster



Series: Reader Inserts [6]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (As it is inherently with elias), Kissing, Other, Reader-Insert, Season/Series 03, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/pseuds/thegreatandpowerfultoaster
Summary: The victory is of a flat, hollow sort, and you briefly consider celebrating with a great deal of hard alcohol. You decide to not do that, and instead go to bed at a reasonable time after maybe a whole tub of ice cream and a good terrible movie.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Reader
Series: Reader Inserts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1124208
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'M OUT HERE RETURNING TO MY ROOTS OF READER INSERTS WITH SHITTY PEOPLE

You're ignoring Elias, which sounds easier than it actually is, probably, since you're in the same building every day and he's still your boss, even after he's went and dropped it on all of you that he was apparently all-seeing and not to mention evil. 

Oh yeah. And you couldn't quit, so there was that. Not that you would have. You've got bills to pay like everyone else around here, despite what they like to think.

Overall, you're probably handling that revelation the best out of the Archival Crew, not that it's a super high bar or anything. That's probably due to the fact that you're mostly ignoring it, though. 

For all you're admitting it, it could be a normal week at the Magnus Institute, except for the brooding going on around you and the fact that you've been living with a friend for the past week, instead of at home.

That would be part of the reason it's been so hard to ignore Elias Bouchard. His house is sort of *your* house, and your cat is sort of *his* cat, and his bed is sort of *your* bed. Because you're dating.

(Wait, past or present tense? Who gets Mister Pebbles in the divorce? Who gets the outdated green rug in the living room?) 

And he is apparently as unhappy with this new arrangement as you are. So unhappy, in fact, that he has decided to stop you in the front hall on your way out. 

(He knows better than to show up in the Archives. Melanie would kill him. Martin might, if he was between cups of tea. Tim would, if he wasn't in the library all day these days.)

"You're not coming home tonight?" He asks. "It's been a week, surely you've smoothed out your temper, by now?"

"Sorry, dear," you tell him. The 'dear' hurts you, but you're fairly certain it has the same effect on him, even if you can't see it. "As I count it, you lied to me for three years, four if we aren't just counting time we were dating, and I still haven't gotten an apology. Or an explanation." 

The frown is nearly imperceptible, you just know where to look. "I see. Well, have a good night then, (Y/N)."

Score one for you.

The victory is of a flat, hollow sort, and you briefly consider celebrating with a great deal of hard alcohol. You decide to not do that, and instead go to bed at a reasonable time after maybe a whole tub of ice cream and a good terrible movie.

 _Damnit_ , you think, about halfway through the tub of ice cream, and this time is is not from the brainfreeze. _I miss that bastard and his pretty eyes and his stupid smug smile_. Everyone's evil, apparently. And you aren't the only one who's got a problem with him. Take a fucking slip and sit down for the wait, and maybe you'll manage to pull a number ahead of Melanie or Daisy so there's a chance there'll still be something to angrily kiss by your turn.

Bad metaphor. Accurate, though. 

You pick up the phone. 

Really? You're gonna drunk dial your ex even though you're not sure he's exactly your ex and you're definitely not drunk? You sure thought this one through, didn't you. 

"I'm gonna hang up if you don't give me answers," you say. He had weird-ass supernatural powers, but even if he didn't you're pretty sure he knows you well enough to know you're not serious. 

"Hmm," he says in lieu of an actual answer, just a calm, unimpressed sound. "Is this conversation as an employee or as my partner?"

"As your partner who loves you and just wants to think you had a reason for...Y'know. Everything. Anything." 

Elias doesn't just tell people things. It's really one of his worse traits, along with looking smug all the time and being a stick in the mud about making out during work hours. So...to say you're surprised when he starts waxing poetic about the Beholding or the Eye or whatever and how Gertrude wanted to destroy his lifetime of work, you're caught between hopelessly charmed and suprised.

You shouldn't be charmed, really. But you've read those statements - well, some of them - and to you? He seems like the most harmless of a lot of bad choices. Fear's going to happen either way. And...and well, you've always been the morbidly curious sort. It was why you were hired in the first place, which is kind of funny, now. 

"You don't have to give yourself over to the Beholding as I have," he says. "It would change you, and I find myself quite fond of you as you are."

"Oh. Thanks."

(You're also quite fond of you as you are, as it turns out.)

"I don't wish us to continue this rather petty argument. It will be a long time before any of this becomes relevant, in any case, and in the meantime I would like you home with me, so that I can make amends to you. Perhaps several days with of amends."

Your stomach does a flip, and it's honestly a wonder you can reply at all. "With breaks for work in betwen?" You can't see the 'of-course-what-sort-of-idiot-do-you-take-me-for' look, but it is very much implied by the brief silence. "A week's worth of amends. Or - or no deal."

"I think that can be arranged."


	2. Chapter 2

God, if it isn't so, so lovely to be back in your own bed, with your cat and your boyfriend, and be pretty much guilt free about it. Of course, there is the sort of inherent guilt that you're getting a good night's sleep while everyone else in your department definitely isn't. 

But...but your comfy bed. And Elias, who had been winning back your affection in definitely more ways than was strictly necessary. I mean, he Knew (Yes! Capital K Knew) you'd already forgiven him. So maybe you don't understand the plans he has, exactly, and maybe this is the wrong way to look at it, but it isn't really for you to worry about. 

Just let Elias handle it, like he handles everything else. Competently. Like he knows what he's doing, because he does, and you wish certainly don't. 

Anyways, he is definitely forgiven _at least_ twice over. The flowers on your desk in the archives, the candles on the bedside tables, and the truffles in the kitchen are really just a bonus. 

A very good bonus, mind you, but just a bonus. 

Maybe it's his way of telling you he's glad your back. He's good with words, sure but usually not sincere ones, never a flat out "I love you," or "I missed you," or "I'm glad you're back". 

So the gifts are it. And the gentler-than-usual kisses peppered up your neck and jaw idly as you read a book on his lap while he stares off into the distance, _really_ looking at God knows what. 

It's fine. You know enough to know what it means, really. 

At work it's still a little hard. Not to say it hasn't always been "A little hard" at work, but obviously tensions have been...Tensions are running high, lately and having to explain away the flowers on your desk while offending none of the parties involved is more of a dance than you really want to be doing. 

Is it worth it? Have one high point, one good thing instead of none, and feel shitty for not feeling shitty about it? 

Yeah. Yeah, it's worth it. 

For some reason, though, between being outed as serving an unknowable entity and trying to make it up to you, he hasn't gotten any less busy with work. Even at home. 

You get it, you do. But being that he doesn't *really* have to give the archive staff performance reviews anymore you'd think you could maybe use that time for kisses instead. Elias doesn't seem to agree. 

So you drape yourself dramatically over his lap (narrowly avoiding whacking your head on his laptop on the way down) and pout. "What happened to making up for lying to me?"

"Oh," he hums, not taking his eyes off of whatever spreadsheet he's paying too much attention to now. Or maybe it was that budgeting program you got him on Steam. It couldn't possibly matter less. You want attention, damnit. "I thought you were done with my attention, and I had overdone it."

"That is not what I thought! New rule, no peeking in my head unless I get to ask what you're thinking at any given time and you have to be a hundred percent honest."

"It's not a choice, really," he says. "Not to mention my thoughts are often occupied with things that you wouldn't want to hear about in length, dear." 

"To-do lists? Evil plans? The Unknowing?" You guess. That last one isn't even your problem, and it's kind of worrying you.

That gets him to put the laptop on the coffee table, and look at you, which is a good start. And then he puts a hand in your hair and gently starts running through it, which is better, even.

"You know you don't have to worry," he says. And then he gets that sort of sultry, possessive rumble. "You don't have to worry about anything, I'll take care of it."

"You'll have Jon take care of it," you correct with a lazy finger poking his chest. "But you weren't talking about work things, were you?"

He grins, smug and lopsided. "Not entirely, no. I suppose it's be better classified under 'anything'. Do you know I'd do anything for you?"

You lean up to kiss him instead of waiting anymore. That was probably the point, you doing the work. You don't care. It's worth whatever game he's playing (it usually is). He laughs against your mouth, and you lightly bite his lip to get the focus less on evil cackling and more on getting as much of his mouth as possible into your mouth. 

You pull back first. "Put the laptop away. Fast. Or I'll start without you."

"You're going to kiss yourself?" That bastard asks. "I suppose if I'm not needed, I _do_ need to send an email to artefact storage about -"

"Elias Bouchard! Laptop! Away! Before I throw it. I _know_ you can afford another one."


End file.
